There are 1,225 inmates in the overcrowded maximum security wing of the cold, gray Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center, representing 1,225 tales of terror, woe, heartbreak and dread; tales of wrongful arrest, mistaken identity, legal incompetence, misunderstanding, and morality tales of misdirected revenge.
There are also 1,225 tear-jerking sagas from the 1,225 mothers of those inmates who swear their boys were all good boys, altar boys, friendly, smart and full of life –- all with loving friends and caring families. And each with a set of clueless neighbors who make tired statements to reporters like, “he seemed like such a nice boy” or “I never thought he would have done such a thing –- there must be some mistake.”
This is the story of the 1,225th inmate -- a likable and friendly fellow named Riley Lynch who drove his sedan over the head of a notorious underworld kingpin squishing it like a vandalized Halloween pumpkin, killing him stone dead, and who then felt mighty good about it.